


Know Thyself

by colleruph



Category: ReBoot (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Inflation, Large Cock, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Self-cest, Sort Of, Work In Progress, to a lesser extent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 05:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19288681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colleruph/pseuds/colleruph
Summary: These Bobs aren't yours. They belong to one another.





	Know Thyself

**Author's Note:**

> This was a one-shot written on a dare. Might revisit just to trim it, make it more suitable for human consumption, dress it up in a plot. It's an ugly kid, but my child nonetheless. I can't write.

He found he could relive every moment of the scene in his mind, could experience every sensation as if then were now.

A steep sorrow. Loss of touch. The faint sensation of Dot’s hands, radiating heat in the faintest pulses, from beyond his plating. His mind is as fuzzy as his body. He barely feels his words form.

“Stay with us, okay?”

Darkness falls. Perhaps he has blinked, perhaps he has slept for seconds, minutes, days– now, she fills his vision, red-stained lips so close to his, breath so tantalizingly close and warm and sorrowful. He can’t even tell who she is, who it is. All that matters is the skin so tender on his neck and face as she speaks through a choked-back sob–

“Marry me.”

The meaning behind Dot’s words barely registers by the time his mouth shoots back-

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Then- thank User it was her, of everyone still here, as her lips encroach his. Then- he can’t help but feel a certain coldness at his realization. Then, as if beckoned by his impending negation, a bright flash of light, a blurry shape; he can make out Frisket barking over the web-crashing tumult. He squints, focuses- he can just barely make out another. It grows closer with every moment, slowly, as if resisted by the reality around it, then seems to stand with its arms crossed.

In a brief spike of clarity, he sees him. Himself.

Throughout his stay in the web, he had barely been able to envision himself. He had yet since his arrival to see any pictures from before; nearly every old document of him had been destroyed under Megabyte. But when he sees himself, he knows. One or two things don’t feel quite right- then again, age is a powerful force.

He hears nothing, but deep in the pit of his memory, something clicks. His heart flutters.

Darkness falls.

* * *

 

Now he rests supine on his old bed, fixated on the ceiling. The past few minutes had gone by like a Bugatti processed by ETA-10G. He has been too sick to remember most of it- New Bob? Old Bob? frolicking around with their shared companions, monopolizing them. Bob understood competition, he understood drive and fear, but this was just cruel. Or perhaps he was being unfair. He had given up on determining who was the copy and who wasn’t, whose memories had more validity. He wasn’t the Bob they remembered. He understood that, and it was all that mattered. But those high cheekbones, those perfect lips, those dimples like crevasses of yond, that gorgeous jawline- surely he had never been that beautiful.

Never so beautiful as to make his own loins quiver.

Bob convulsed and turned to his right. Dot loving another wasn’t nearly enough to keep him locked indoors for seconds on end. He could easily coexist with any other version of himself, hypothetically. In his heart of hearts, he knew a good deal of his rejection in favor of the new one was his own doing. In real time, he could barely get a word out in front of him. If he were being honest, it was tingling warmth, not cold isolation, which turned him away. Who knew he could turn out to be such a god-damned incubus? No wonder he kept getting so much unsolicited attention. But what did this mean? He’d never loved a man before, not like this. Not even women were capable of drawing such energy from his firmware- except once, maybe, with Hexadecimal. But that was different.

He knew he couldn’t tell anybody. He’d tried to, once, during a session with Phong, but after the first sentence, all the words came out wrong. He wasn’t ready to split up with Glitch just yet, no matter the side effects. He had far too much fear and not nearly enough energy. To tell the truth, who Dot ended up with stopped mattering to him just the second after Other Bob arrived. He knew his looks were vital in reconnecting, but he didn’t want to offend what he was sure was the love of his life. Had Glitch had a crush on him? Did his functionality rely on Glitch’s removal? What would happen?

He tossed and turned a bit more. Nothing made sense. He needed to stop thinking, just let himself sink. There was nothing he could do. Just envisioning Other Bob’s face, hands, body- anything, anything about him- made him weak in the knees and unable to walk. His motherboard was making his pipe ache for attention. Dejected and defective, he slumped against his pillow.

Suddenly- a rap at the door. Keys jingling. He lifted his head to see the door swinging open.

It was him.

Bob couldn’t help his face flushing teal or his legs quivering as his eyes met his own, or his heart skipping a beat as his old reflection cooed, ever so slightly nasally, “Don’t worry. We’re alone.” He shut the door behind him.

“Good,” was all that Bob could stammer out. Other Bob began to walk towards him, incrementally, swaying his hips with each step, muscles flexing visibly under his skin-tight suit, bulge shifting beneath it. Bob could not have explained what he felt in that moment- it was too overwhelming, too holistic. With bated breath, he asked, “Why are you here?”

Other Bob smirked. “You already know, Glitch.”

He lunged towards the web-corrupted guardian, grasping both his shoulders, looking him intently in the eye. Bob gasped. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Bob. You really think I wouldn’t have noticed? Always fidgeting, always jealous when Dot and I are together, bright green with envy.” He moistened his lip with his tongue. His breath smelled of silicon and fresh lipstick. “But who are you envious of, copy? Both of us, I’d say. You wish you could look like me, the old you…” – Other Bob’s began to slide up Bob’s scaly neck to his chin, pushed his mouth up to Bob’s ear– “and you wish you could be where Dot’s been the past few nights. Fucking me.”

The brush of the sprite’s dreads against Bob’s jaw, neck, face was almost too much. He could feel himself overheating, growing faint; a stiffness manifested against the plating on his crotch. He moaned. He couldn’t help it. He stopped resisting.

Other Bob laughed- a strange laugh, unsuited to his face. “So quick to submit, eh? How unlike me. No wonder all your friends and family don’t believe you. You’re nothing like the Bob they know…” He buried his lips in the dip below Bob’s jaw, then teethed gently. Bob ground futilely against the edge of his mattress. Other Bob chuckled. “You like that?” He began to fondle Bob’s chest from over the armor, a tease Bob simply couldn’t take. He panted, thrusting outwards from the minimal pressure.

The force of Other Bob’s teeth on Bob’s neck increased. A large bruise began to form around his jawline, viridescent blood beading where OB began to break the skin. The pain shot straight down Bob’s torso to his crotch, where his disk became notably less floppy. The pressure of his rising plug against Glitch’s immalleable chitin wasn’t making this any easier. The faint sensation of OB’s hand drifting across his chest nearly got him there- it stopped at his icon, teased it until OB stopped chewing. He tapped it twice. “ReBoot.”

Bob shook violently, lapsing in and out of physicality, losing almost all of his arousal in something of an inverted orgasm– the world around him twisted and shook–

And he was awake again, only nanos later, on the same bed. Something felt off. He looked down to see his drive, naked and vulnerable, just on the verge of tumescence. Other Bob remained clothed. He was confounded- he himself had never been able to remove Glitch from his skin; was this a dream? His discombobulation quickly gave way to a thoughtless wave of information as he caught Other Bob’s eye.

The old model smiled softly, smoothly driving his hands down Bob’s torso, rubbing small circles on every bump and depression they passed, slowing, slowing the further down they got. Bob could feel himself stiffen. The hands ground to a halt just at the bottom of his v-lines, wavering ever so slightly, drawing the smallest of circles and spirals. The scale-studded guardian tossed his head back, his defined six-pack flexing, tossing his pelvis upward in the hopes of catching some friction. Despite his best efforts, Other Bob’s wrists evaded him. Bob spread his legs further, his loins tensing more and more with every slightest quiver of the old model’s fingers, ever so close to the base of his drive, but never touching it. The action seemed to go on for an eternity. He could feel himself coming closer and closer, unable to look his replica in the eyes for fear that he might explode, shaking, his whole body filling with an unabated heat, his eyes beginning to roll back, his mouth watering –when the movement stopped altogether.

He sat on the edge of his bed, drenched in sweat, overheated and pathetic. His wire was so overpumped as to nearly curl back into his wire brush of pubic hair, the tip inflamed beyond belief. Pain and tension overtook him as Other Bob’s hands came to rest on his inner thighs, as the clone’s lips approached the stitch of his scrotum. He groaned with untold sexual pressure. The old model looked up at his face, smiling.

“You really thought I’d let you come this early on? Who do you think I am?” He chortled, stuck out his tongue to the point where it lay mere microns away from the base of his shaft, then receded from the poor sprite’s crotch. Bob was nearly too dazed and overstimulated to notice the other him, standing only around a foot away from his bed, begin to unbuckle his belt, remove it, and wrap it around his wrist. The impression in the copy’s pants was just now visible to him– possibly, he realized in short time, because it was growing at a detectable pace, far faster than that of the average erection, the head of the shaft beginning to piece its way out of the confines of the tights. Bob could only stare, stunned, aroused beyond belief, on the cusp of creaming everywhere but altogether unable to. The Bob opposite him licked his lips, eyes lighting up. “I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you,” he muttered.

In an instant, the newcomer ripped his pants off entirely, exposing perfectly toned triceps, hamstrings, calves Bob was absolutely certain he’s never had – as well as a length of pipe at least one bit in measurement. An instinctual wave of fear rolled down his spine. There was an aggression in Other Bob’s eyes, one which Bob had no clue he himself could ever harness. In an authoritative tone, Other Bob commanded he turn over, get on his hands and knees. He complied thoughtlessly, his wire pulsating. The world around him seemed to warp.

The sensation of Other Bob’s hand on his back, just over the curve of his ASCII, petting him, then grasping him firmly– it was warm at first, then bizarrely cold, metallic– only for a nanosecond. The second hand joined it just above the corresponding side of his hip. Bob bucked submissively, then tilted his bottom upward to meet the monster program about to enter his system.

As soon as the head breached his hyperlink, his eyes shot into the back of his head. A soft fuzz forced its way from his rectum to his chest. It slowly yet surely progressed further and further into his tubes. He tried to distance himself, desperately groping the sheets beneath him, panting, shouting like a woman in labor as something far too large for him to handle forced its way into his life. Cycles seemed to pass before he could feel Other Bob’s flat pelvis against his round and exorbitant ass cheeks- he had been plugged into completely. Bob whimpered, half in ecstasy, half in terror– he could feel the pressure of the worm within him against his stomach, against his abdomen, against his spine. His involuntary squirming certainly wasn’t taking any load off. His crotch burned with a need to release its data. All he could do, he realized, was hunker down and prepare for the worst.

At this very moment, Other Bob jolted backwards and, in a single, swift motion, tore his device from the corrupted sprite. The raw pain throughout a good length of Bob’s insides was pulsating and insufferable, albeit accompanied by the pleasure of something great, stiff and rapid against one’s prostate. Before Bob could fully process his condition, another flash of motion stuck the full length within him again. The strokes increased in rapidity, with Other Bob’s cock no longer bothering to leave the other’s insides in full, until Bob was being jackhammered into mindlessness at a pace he himself had never mustered, particularly not upon the rear.

The pure, unadulterated pleasure flowing through Bob’s bitmap seemed to lift him. Time slowed. The only sensations of which he was aware were the firm grip of his doppelgänger around his lower torso and the destruction of his prostate by a massive unlubricated hard disk. His activation had creeped up to his belly button, engorged and flushed to the point where it no longer resembled a part of his body. He felt himself approach the crest, his grunts becoming moans, his hips bucking harder to the tempo of Other Bob’s thrusts; unfortunately, so did Other Bob. He felt a hand enclose around his tip, thumb pressed against the mouth of his plug. He strained his neck trying to give his newfound lover? a look and failed to in the end game. The thrusting continued, harder than before, impossibly hard. Bob’s body went limp, assailed by a luxury he could not overcome.

He was wracked, pent up to the nth, and shaking with abandon when a thrust finally landed and stayed. Other Bob moaned, an odd bit of fuzz, depth to his voice– a guttural nature which certainly wasn't there before. His full body spasmed as he released his full data dump into Bob’s midsection. Bob, albeit barely conscious, was able to count the standard 15 nanos of male sprite ejaculation, and was able to notice that his inundation went on for far longer. He could feel his guts filling up with information gradually, only stopping at the point where he felt as he once had after an extensive splurge on energy shakes far before his time in the Web. The curve of his lower abdomen pushed against his hyperextended shaft, nudging his foreskin. His pain and discomfort only added to his arousal.

Without taking the hand off of Bob’s joystick, Other Bob slowly retracted his nodule from his counterpart. Data flowed in streams from Bob’s spent asset. Wire still stoppered, Bob was rotated, made to sit in his original position against the edge of the bed. The guardian found his vision to be terribly blurry, but his sensations to still be intact. The rubbing of his body and the pressure of the hand upon his spritehood was too much, far too much, and his trackballs were bluer than he himself had ever been. By the User’s grace or so it felt, the hand was removed, exposing the burning matter to a world into which it had to let loose. In his discomfort, Bob shifted; that was all it took.

His climax felt like a system crash, a release of a brontobyte, a deletion, and a groundbreaking upgrade all at once. He had never experienced anything like it in his life. He thrust his head back, shook like an early evangelical, cried out, and collapsed, still barely conscious. He felt one emotion and one emotion only, although he couldn’t quite place it. Love was as close as he could get to a proper title.

Just as he settled, a green glow overtook the man he knew he’d always love most– himself from around a cycle ago– and began to change him. To contort him. Bob was too exhausted to look up, too overtaxed to scream. He merely asked “What’s going on?”, dazed and nonchalant.

Only moments later, he felt a very familiar presence. He didn’t have to see this one’s face to know its name. His eyes rolled around in their sockets, frantic, panicked. He propped himself up to prove his suspicions.

“Megabyte?”

The virus crouched on the floor, predatory, smirking. Before he could get a word out, a wordless shriek could be heard in the doorway. Upon further investigation, it had emerged from a soft green face with red-stained lips, cloaked in a bathrobe. Dot’s face showed a shock English words cannot suffice to describe, tinged with confusion, then rage, then extreme existential dissonance. She fell to the floor, unconscious.

The two looked to the fallen sprite, then to one another. Speechless, Megabyte spread his arms in an invitation to embrace. Bob, after a moment’s hesitation, decided he had nothing left to lose and leapt into the claws of his long-time nemesis. They were locked in a mutual grasp on the floor for ages, lips against lips, every aspect grinding against another. _This is it_ , thought Bob. _How had I never realized? I never wanted to have sex with myself. I knew it was him all along. Finally–_ he buried his face in Megabyte’s cold, metallic chest– _finally, I’m free_.

Romantic activity ensued until it could physically no longer and the two collapsed, resting in bliss in one another’s arms until discovered once more by a woken Dot Matrix, who was promptly escorted out of Bob’s life for being a sabotaging, possessive, manipulative asshole throughout the whole of their relationship.


End file.
